


Fly to the Devil You Don't

by lco123



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: Hanna was quiet for a long time. Then, in a tremulous voice, she said, “What if she comes back?”Mona thought about her Dollhouse in construction. She thought about Alex being locked up in there, for good. Never again able to hurt her. Or Hanna.“She won’t,” Mona promised. “She’s never coming back.”Post-finale. In finding her way back to Hanna, Mona finds her way back to herself.





	Fly to the Devil You Don't

**Author's Note:**

> I was pretty disappointed that the show framed Mona's Dollhouse as a happy ending for her character. She deserves better, and so does Hanna. This fic imagines what could happen for the two of them after 7x20.

_They say you should stay with the devil you know_

_But when life needs a change and the one devil won't_

_You fly to the devil you don't_

\- "Maybe,"  _Next to Normal_

 

Sometimes Mona still forgets it isn’t Spencer.

She remembers quickly, of course, once Alex’s eyes snap open or she starts talking. Alex is nothing like Spencer, not really; she’s rough around the edges, jagged in the places where Spencer is smooth. Or nearly smooth.

But sometimes in the very early hours of the morning, long before Mona has opened the doll shop, she’ll silently slip out of bed—careful not to wake her lover—and pad downstairs in slippers and a soft silk robe. Some mornings she waits long enough to make herself a cup of coffee, but usually she’s too excited to get to them. She makes her way through the shop, absently fixing a doll’s errant curl as she goes, and then walks down to the basement.

Alex isn’t an early riser, and Mona doesn’t make her be one. She likes watching her sleep too much. Alex will be curled on the four-poster bed in one corner of the room, Mary fast asleep in the matching bed at the opposite corner. 

Mona will get close to the glass separating her from them, tracing a finger along the lines of Alex’s face. _Spencer’s_ face. This is when she has trouble telling them apart. If it’s early enough she can still shock herself, can still get giddy with the thought that it’s Spencer. 

At first, Mona tried to make Alex pretend to be her. Alex refused, now that there was nothing to gain from the ruse. Down here, the penalties for disobeying had to be harsh. There’s no space for blackmail or bribery; just life and death. A day without water. Two without food.

But Mona didn’t like that. She isn’t cruel like Charlotte. So now she lets Alex be Alex. Boredom and displeasure is one thing, but she doesn’t like witnessing pain. 

She lets them sleep. She feeds them well. There are no holes or sirens or gas masks down here. They have clean clothes and warm beds. It’s better treatment than they’d get in prison. More fun, too, Mona’s sure. 

Here, they get to be her dolls.

\--

Hanna called her, a few days before Mona left for Paris. Alex and Mary hadn’t been transferred yet; they were still being held in Mona’s makeshift bunker underneath the Radley.

“The police can’t find them,” Hanna told her, sounding panicky. “Mary already escaped once. Spencer says there must be someone helping them on the force. God, Rosewood cops are _still_ the worst!”

“Maybe so,” Mona replied noncommittally. “But if they know what’s good for them, they’ll stay away.”

“Alex had that chance before,” Hanna pointed out. “And she still came back. The game is addictive.” She sighed softly. “You know that better than anyone.”

Mona shook her head, feeling a sharp twinge slice through her. “Yes,” she acknowledged. “But everyone knows about Alex now. Her whole con was about impersonating Spencer, and there’s no way she can do that anymore.”

Hanna was quiet for a long time. Then, in a tremulous voice, she said, “What if she comes back?”

Mona thought about her Dollhouse in construction. She thought about Alex being locked up in there, for good. Never again able to hurt her. Or Hanna.

“She won’t,” Mona promised. “She’s never coming back.”

\--

Mona’s nightmares are less frequent than they used to be, but not by much. She still wakes up screaming sometimes, her sheets soaked through with sweat. She dreams of Charlotte, of Alison, of Alex. Of looking into a mirror only to see a cracked mask staring back. Some dreams are so vivid that Mona has trouble knowing what’s real. She’ll stare hard at her hands for several minutes, trying to convince herself that the bloody fingertips clawing at the concrete walls of the Dollhouse are nothing more than a memory.

She gets her best sleep downstairs, with Alex and Mary. The chair may be uncomfortable, but the image of the two of them locked away is not. It isn’t sadistic on her part, even if it might look that way.

It’s a way of staying in control.

That’s why Mona’s Dollhouse is hard to explain, even to herself. Some days it’s about having fun, watching her dolls drink tea in their pretty dresses. And some days it’s about survival, knowing that A.D. is locked away. And some days, it’s a little bit of both.

There’s no one in the world who could understand that. 

\--

Time passes. The Dollhouse becomes just another part of Mona’s life, like her room at the Lost Woods. Like the box where she shoved every thought about Hanna that she wasn’t supposed to have. It all got so tangled up, back then, but it’s not tangled anymore. Close the door and lock it, put away the key. Be the version of yourself that you need to be in order to get through the day. 

Her lover leaves, which isn’t a huge surprise. It’s okay, she doesn’t need him any more. She meets someone else, a few months later. Celeste. She has a curtain of long black hair and wears mostly dark clothing to match. She’s intense and intelligent, so French that she almost seems like a character from a movie. She doesn’t ask Mona many questions, and she rarely smiles, but she kisses Mona like she truly wants her.

Mona still thinks about Hanna, but not everyday. They haven’t spoken since before Mona left, so it’s a surprise when Hanna calls her. It’s been nearly a year. Mona has a new phone, but Hanna clearly doesn’t, because Mona’s heart is in her chest as soon as she sees the number.

She affixes a smirk to her face, even though Hanna’s won’t see it. “Well, well, well,” Mona greets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey, Mona,” Hanna says, sounding distracted and maybe a little upset.

“What’s wrong?” Mona asks, immediately. It can’t be A; she ended that. Once and for all.

Hanna is quiet for a second. “I don’t really know why I called.”

“Did you miss me?” Mona prompts. She’s going for casual, but her voice comes out like such an imitation of Alison’s that it nearly makes her stomach churn.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Hanna replies. “I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have kicked you out, before.”

Mona inhales sharply through her nose. She doesn’t really want to get into this now. Or possibly ever. “I understand why you did it. There was a lot going on.” She shakes her head, wanting to move on. “How’s the baby? I sent an outfit, but I never heard back, so…”

“I’m sorry about that too,” Hanna says. “God, I really screwed everything up.”

“You didn’t,” Mona insists. “Or if you did, then I did first.”

“Maybe we should stop doing things to each other that we later have to apologize for,” Hanna suggests.

Mona frowns. “That would imply that we’re actually going to be in each other’s lives.” That sounds more cutting than she intends, so she follows it up by adding, “Violet?”

“She’s good,” Hanna says. She doesn’t bother to ask how Mona knows the name of her daughter. “Growing bigger every day and sleeping pretty well.” She sniffs. “Caleb left, though.”

Mona digs her nails hard into her palm. She wants to feel nothing but friendly concern. But… “Oh, Han. I’m sorry,” she offers before she can think about saying something else. “What happened?”

“What was always going to happen, I guess,” Hanna says tearfully. “I knew it was heading here, I did, but I just didn’t want to see it. One minute we’d be talking about what brand of diapers to buy, and then before I knew it we were arguing about whether or not to leave Rosewood. Or why he was working so much. Or…” Hanna trails off, sighing. “Or why I spent so long looking for your new number.”

“Han,” Mona breathes.

“I almost called you a dozen times,” Hanna continues. “I felt awful, kicking you out like that. Especially after everything you did to help. But I didn’t want to make things worse. And then I found out I was pregnant, and I thought maybe if I didn’t think about A.D. or the game or _you_ , everything would go back to normal. Me and Caleb could just be happy.”

Mona doesn’t comment on being lumped in with A.D. and the game, even though it stings.

“I should have known,” Hanna murmurs. “Nothing ever goes away if you don’t deal with it. You’d think after all we’ve been through I would have learned my lesson.”

“Why did you call me now?” Mona asks, because she can’t not.

She pictures Hanna shrugging on the other side of the phone call. “I guess I wanted to hear your voice.”

 _You feel guilty_ , Mona thinks but doesn’t say.

“How are you doing?” Hanna asks. “Truly?”

“Fine,” Mona replies, too quickly. This conversation is making her feel things she doesn’t want to feel, and she’s ready for it to be over.

“I heard about the doll shop.”

“Yes,” Mona confirms. It isn’t a surprise that Hanna knows; it’s not like Mona’s been keeping an especially low profile. At least where the shop is concerned.

“And your recovery?”

“What about it?” Mona asks coolly.

Hanna sighs, like she isn’t especially looking forward to this conversation but she feels like it can’t be avoided. “The doctor said that consistency was important, right? Consistency and a strong support system. I just want to make sure you have those there.”

“Enough of them.”

“Have you found a therapist that you like?”

“Yeah,” Mona lies. “I’ve been good. Better than good. I’ve been amazing.”

“You don’t sound amazing,” Hanna says quietly. “I worry about you, you know.”

Mona bites her lip. There’s so much she could say to that, so many cruel, cutting, and not entirely inaccurate statements she could throw back at Hanna. But instead she takes a deep breath and says, “Don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself. You and the baby.”

“Mona, I was wondering if I could—”

“Goodbye, Hanna,” Mona cuts in, and for the first time in their long and sordid friendship, she hangs up before Hanna can ask her for anything more.

\--

Mona throws herself headfirst into every distraction she can find. She offers to co-host an auction benefitting animal rights, donating thirty of her dolls to the cause. She begins taking a marketing course so she can improve her fledgling business. She urges Celeste to attend a cooking class with her so they can start making more meals at home.

It’s all good. It’s all healthy. But Alex and Mary are still in the Dollhouse, and now Mona can’t visit them without thinking about Hanna.

And she can’t kiss Celeste without thinking about Hanna, either.

\--

Hanna calls her a few more times, but Mona lets the calls go straight to voicemail and deletes them without listening. She considers changing numbers, but that implies a direct action—no longer avoiding the calls, but purposefully walking in the other direction of them. She’s never done that, not where Hanna’s concerned.

And then one day Mona receives an email on her business address.

**To: _mv@vanderwaaldollsinc.eu_**

**From: _hanna@marindesigns.com_**

_Hi Mona,_

_You’ve made it clear you don’t want to talk to me, but maybe you’ll write to me. Or maybe you won’t, but at least in an email you can’t hang up on me._

_I don’t know if you’re mad at me still or just want to move on. I get wanting to move on, and I get why you would be mad. I was given a chance to choose and I chose wrong. I’m sorry._

_I want to make sure that you’re okay. You didn’t sound like yourself when we talked, and you not responding to my calls is unlike you. Or at least, the you you always were with me._

_Remember when you were in Radley and I came and did your makeup? You might not remember, actually. You were on a lot of meds back then. I was thinking about that the other day. It feels like so long ago._

_I don’t think either of us should be alone right now. We should be there for each other._

_Please take care of yourself, Mona. I miss you._

_-Hanna_

Mona takes a deep breath as she finishes reading. She’s shaking, just a little, and her eyes feel heavy with tears. She hits reply immediately and types out a quick message, not bothering to read it through before sending it off:

_Don’t feel guilty. We all made our own beds. I can’t be there for you right now. I hope you can understand._

_I’m sorry._

Mona blocks the email address, making sure she’ll never see another message from Hanna again.

\--

A month goes by. Celeste breaks up with her, without much fanfare, and Mona is alone again.

Well, not _alone_ alone. Alex and Mary are still close by, sipping their tea and rolling their eyes at her. Mona senses that whatever fear she distilled in them at first has more or less worn off at this point. Ever since her conversation with Hanna, she hasn’t found much joy in having them here. Far from it; the sight of them makes her feel small and vaguely out of control. Like she doesn’t know quite how she or they ended up here, after everything.

Mona thinks about Hanna’s mention of her recovery. Therapy has often been a means to an end with her. A way of getting out of Radley or Welby, a way of getting back to her family or Hanna. Mona knows the right things to say. She can game the system without so much as lifting a finger.

But there were a few years there, after she left Rosewood and before she came back, where her routine of counselors and medications actually seemed to help. She still felt like more or less herself, still felt sharp and unstoppable, but her mind wasn’t preoccupied with games and dolls. And yet…

The nightmares were still there, and they made Mona feel powerless. When she took Alex and Mary, she didn’t feel that way, at least at first. She thought maybe she’d found a loophole, a way to permanently exile PTSD from her life forever.

It didn’t work, though. The nightmares are still there. And Mona may be sharp and unstoppable, but she’s also stuck. 

This time, in a Dollhouse of her own creation.

\--

Mona gets a call from an unknown number with a Philadelphia area code. She considers sending the call to voicemail before curiosity gets the best of her.

“Hello,” she answers in a low voice, not about to identify herself to someone she doesn’t know.

“Mona Vanderwaal,” a warm, familiar voice replies. “It’s Anne—”

“Sullivan?” Mona interjects. “Dr. Sullivan?"

“Yes,” Dr. Sullivan replies. “I know the last time we spoke, you were going through a challenging time. I wasn’t you’d remember.”

“I remember,” Mona tells her. “Vaguely.” The night she admitted what she’d done to Charlotte and was subsequently taken to Welby is fragmented, a puzzle with a few missing pieces. But she has a hazy recollection of Dr. Sullivan at her side, holding her hand on the way to the hospital. Telling Mona that she was safe now, that she was going to be taken care of.

“Why are you calling me?” Mona asks.

“Hanna Marin called me,” Dr. Sullivan replies.

 _Hanna_. Of course. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I think she’s concerned about you,” Dr. Sullivan says. “At first I told her that me contacting you might be crossing a boundary. But she reminded me of everything all of you have been through.”

“You and I crossed boundaries a long time ago,” Mona murmurs. Other memories flood in. Dr. Sullivan’s office when she was just a teenager. Sitting across from her at a dingy diner and demanding that she leave town. 

“Hanna reminded me of that, too.”

“Hanna feels guilty,” Mona says, immediately.

“Why do you think she feels that way?” Dr. Sullivan asks.

Mona sighs. There isn’t a simple explanation. “She got me involved with something and…it didn’t go well, for me.”

“What did she get you involved with?”

“I suppose you could call it a game,” Mona replies evenly.

There’s a pause, and then, in a more guarded tone, Dr. Sullivan murmurs, “You still play games.”

“Yes,” Mona says. “And I felt like I was losing, but then I won.”

“So the game is over?”

Mona swallows hard. She’s in the back office of the shop, which means that Alex and Mary are just underneath her. “Not for good.”

“Mona, have you ever thought about not playing?” Dr. Sullivan asks.

“About quitting?”

“Sure,” Dr. Sullivan allows. “About quitting.”

“If you quit, you can’t win,” Mona points out.

“But you just told me you already won.”

Mona shakes her head to no one, blinking hard. “I can’t just quit.”

“Maybe you can’t win if you quit. But you also can’t lose,” Dr. Sullivan says. “I understand that games are important to you. Yet at a certain point, the only person you’re playing against is yourself. So even when you win, you lose. I’m not sure that the fight is always worth it.”

Mona doesn’t respond, so Dr. Sullivan continues, “Often couples come to me who are at the end of their rope. They’ve tried counselor after counselor, they’ve been together and apart. And not always, but sometimes, all three of us begin to realize that the healthiest choice is to let go.”

Mona breathes in shakily. It isn’t all that far off from what she’s been considering. But to hear someone say it out loud makes it real. Makes it possible. “I—I don’t know who I am, if I do that.”

“I do. You’re free, Mona. If you let go, then you can finally be free.” Dr. Sullivan’s voice is achingly gentle. “You deserve more than just a game that never ends. You deserve a life.”

Mona silently wipes at the tears on her cheeks.

“I have a colleague who’s working in Paris for a few months,” Dr. Sullivan tells her. “Let me give you her information. She’s a wonderful therapist. If you like her, great. If not, it’s no big deal. You can call me back, and we’ll come up with a different plan.”

“ _We?_ ”

“I’m here for you,” Dr. Sullivan promises. “If you’ll have me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mona asks.

“I had the opportunity to help you and your friends a long time ago,” Dr. Sullivan explains. “I should have tried harder.”

“So you feel guilty, too,” Mona mutters.

“You could call it guilt,” Dr. Sullivan replies. “Or you could call it finally doing the right thing. That’s all I’m trying to do.” She pauses, then adds, “I think that’s all Hanna is trying to do, too.”

\--

Mona waits a week, and then she calls the therapist Dr. Sullivan recommended. Her name is Dr. Julie Bergstrom, and they schedule an appointment for the end of the week. She looks to be about five years older than Dr. Sullivan, with blonde hair tucked into a tight bun and thick-framed glasses. There’s a sternness about her, but also a warmth behind her eyes.

Mona doesn’t tell her everything, far from it, but when Mona starts talking about the importance of control, Dr. Bergstrom nods before saying, “Sometimes having control is a way of having power. But sometimes you just end up putting yourself further inside a box. What do you think is true, for you?”

The statement is so accurate that Mona can’t help but answer her truthfully. She feels scared and excited all at once; her whole body is buzzing.

She doesn't think twice before scheduling another session for the following week.

\--

“You called Dr. Sullivan,” Mona says by way of greeting when Hanna answers the phone.

“I did,” Hanna confirms, without an ounce of remorse. “I thought if you weren’t going to talk to me, maybe you’d talk to her.”

“You could have warned me.” Mona isn’t mad, not really. Truth be told, she’s actually kind of impressed with Hanna.

“You would have just changed your number.”

Mona snorts. Hanna isn’t wrong. “How’re you and Violet doing?”

“We’re okay,” Hanna replies. “Caleb and I are thinking about moving back to New York.”

Mona’s feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up at the mention of Caleb’s name. “I thought you two were splitting up?”

“We are. We just want to keep things simple for Vi. So we’re going to try and get apartments close to one another.”

“That’s surprisingly mature.”

“Hey, I’m mature!” Hanna insists.

“I know _you_ are,” Mona acknowledges. “I’m referring to Caleb.”

Hanna laughs lightly, and the sound sends a tingle down Mona’s spine. “I’ve missed talking to you,” Hanna admits. “I thought you might be mad about Dr. Sullivan.”

“I was, at first,” Mona tells her. “But…”

“But what?”

Mona sighs. “You were right,” she admits. “I wasn’t taking care of myself as much as I needed to be.”

“And what about now?”

“I’m working on it,” Mona says after a beat.

“Good.”

Mona clears her throat. “You were going to ask me something, the last time we talked.”

“I was,” Hanna says. “But it’s not important.”

“What is it?”

“I wanted to see you,” Hanna tells her. “I thought maybe Vi and I would take a trip to Paris for Fashion Week. Y’know, scope out the hopefully-future competition.”

“But Fashion Week was last month,” Mona realizes. “And I pretty much cut you off.”

“It was for the best, anyway,” Hanna says breezily. “I’ve been way too busy to plan—”

“You could still come out here,” Mona interjects, pointedly ignoring the eagerness in her tone.

Hanna is quiet for a second. “You’d be okay with seeing me?”

“Yeah,” Mona replies. “I really, really would.”

\--

Mona is downstairs with Alex and Mary. They’re not in their doll clothes, though; Mona brought them their old clothes a few days ago, freshly laundered. She didn’t like the look of the frilly dresses anymore.

“Did you ever want to get better?” Mona asks through the glass. 

“ _Better?”_ Alex scoffs. “Better than what?”

“It’s no big secret that you’re a little _Girl, Interrupted_.”

Alex smirks. “Look who’s talkin', love.”

Mary merely glares through the glass. She’s been pretty quiet since they’ve been down here.

Mona thinks about going toe-to-toe with Alex, about instigating a verbal sparring match. It would be so easy. It would feel so good, but just for a second. And then they’d be right back where they started, both of them stuck here in this lonely place filled with too many dolls.

Mona puts her hand against the glass. “Goodbye,” she mouthes.

She calls Linda Tanner and spins a story about finding Alex and Mary hiding out in her shop. “They were going to kill me,” she says in her best concerned voice. “For what I did to Charlotte. What should I do?”

“Call the police,” Tanner replies. “I’m on my way. I want to personally be the one to close this case.”

Mona drugs Alex and Mary’s food, then drags them out of the Dollhouse once they pass out. She takes everything incriminating out of there, all of the dolls and teacups and stuffed animals, and she jams them into her storage room. She makes the Dollhouse look as much like an ordinary basement as possible, like some weird old room that Mona just happened to stumble upon when she first started renting the building. And then she drags them back in and calls the police. They’re just coming to when the cops arrive.

“I found them down here. They’re crazy,” Mona tells the one English-speaking officer. “You can’t trust anything they say.”

The words don’t feel good coming out of her mouth, but Mona knows this is the only way. As the police cart Alex and Mary away, Mona wraps her arms tightly around herself. When she looks at Alex, she doesn’t see Spencer anymore. Or maybe she doesn’t want to. She searches herself for feelings of rage or triumph, but mostly she just feels relief. 

Dr. Sullivan was right. The game still keeps going. There’s nothing Mona can do to stop it. But finally, she’s done playing.

\--

 **To:** **_hanna@marindesigns.com_ **

**From:** **_mv@vanderwaaldollsinc.eu_ **

_Dear Hanna,_

_I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch. Life here has been a whirlwind. I hope you and Violet have been well. (And Caleb too, I guess.)_

_I heard that Aria and Fitz are getting a divorce! About damn time. Is it true that she and Spencer have been pretty much living together since it happened? I always knew Spence had an eye for her._

_I’m sure you’ve heard the news that Tanner finally found Alex and Mary. I know we’re all relieved to have that case closed._

_I’m doing well. I have a new therapist, and she’s wonderful. I feel strong. Better than I have in a long time._

_Anytime you want to visit I’m here. And I’d love to see you. Truly._

_I miss you._

_Yours,_

_Mona_

 

 **To:** **_mv@vanderwaaldollsinc.eu_ **

**From:** **_hanna@marindesigns.com_ **

_Hi Mona!_

_Yeah, Aria finally kicked Ezra to the curb. She and Spencer have been spending a lot of time together, but neither will tell me what’s going on with them. Emily and Ali are doing well. The twins are huge! They love their little cousin Violet._

_I’m doing well, too. So is Caleb. We signed leases on apartments just a ten minute walk from each other. I think we like each other more now that we’re not trying to make it work as a couple._

_I’m so glad you’re feeling strong. Seriously, you don’t know how happy that makes me. And I’m really glad you reached out. It's truly such a relief to know that Alex and Mary are finally behind bars._

_I’ll be in touch soon. I can’t wait to see you._

_-Hanna_

 

 **To:** **_hanna@marindesigns.com_ **

**From:** **_mv@vanderwaaldollsinc.eu_ **

_Hanna—_

_Wow, good for Aria and Spencer. It’s funny how things work out._

_I’ve been thinking about opening a branch of the business in New York. I’ve been missing the States. Don’t get me wrong, I love Paris. But there are a lot of good things I left behind. (Good people, too.)_

_Are you seeing anyone? Maybe that’s a silly question, considering everything happening with Caleb. But I’m curious. Personally, I haven’t dated anyone in a while._

_Your last email was so mysterious! When can I expect you? Whenever it happens, it’ll be great to have you here. I’m really looking forward to meeting Violet._

_Yours (always),_

_Mona_

 

 **To:** **_mv@vanderwaaldollsinc.eu_ **

**From:** **_hanna@marindesigns.com_ **

_Mona—_

_No, I’m not seeing anyone. I smiled so big when I read that you might come back to the States. That would be awesome._

_Don’t worry about when I’ll be there. I’ll see you soon, okay? Let me be the one to surprise you, for a change._

_Love,_

_Hanna_

\-- ****

There’s a knock on the glass door just after Mona has closed up shop. “Désolé, nous sommes fermés!” she calls, not looking up.

The knocking continues, and when Mona goes to the door, Hanna is on the other side. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Hanna says with a smile. “But would you please let me in?”

Mona grins hugely and wrenches the door open. Hanna giggles and hugs her tight. “Hi!” Hanna breathes into her hair. “I told you I’d see you soon!”

Mona has a million questions, but she doesn’t voice them just yet. She’s enjoying the feel of Hanna’s arms around her too much.

Hanna pulls away, a bit breathless, and Mona ushers her and her luggage fully inside. “It’s so good to see you,” Mona says, aware that her voice sounds rather reverent. It’s been just a little over a year since they’ve seen each other, but it feels like a lifetime. 

Hanna looks beautiful. Mona can’t help but brush a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes—it’s just a bit shorter—and Hanna leans into her touch.

“You surprised me, that’s for sure,” Mona sighs happily.

“Good. That was the goal.” Hanna is positively beaming, and just looking at her makes Mona feel like the sun is shining on her.

“Where’s Violet?” Mona asks. 

“With my mom,” Hanna replies. “I want you to meet her, but I wanted to just come by myself for this trip.”

Mona arches an eyebrow at her. There’s something in Hanna’s tone, like she has more she wants to say. But she doesn’t say it, so Mona invites Hanna upstairs to her apartment.

“This is lovely,” Hanna says as she looks around at the bright vintage couch and gauzy curtains. “You’ve always had such great taste.”

“Thanks,” Mona replies, handing Hanna a glass of water. “You must be exhausted. I’ll make up the bed for you. I can take the couch.”

Hanna takes a sip of water, then sets the cup down on the coffee table. She shrugs out of her coat, gently placing it on the couch. “Mona,” she says softly, eyes wide. “You haven’t asked what I’m doing here.”

Mona swallows, her gaze steady on Hanna’s. “You said you wanted to visit Paris.”

Hanna nods. “I did. But it’s not just Paris. It’s _you._ ”

“You wanted to make sure I was doing okay.”

“Yeah. Not just that, though.”

Mona’s breathing starts to get a little shallow. The way Hanna is looking at her—determined and sure—makes her heart beat faster. She thinks she knows where Hanna is going with this, but she won’t let herself believe it just yet.

“You still feel guilty?” Mona offers.

“No,” Hanna says firmly. “I’m not here because I feel guilty or because I need something. I’m not here because I’m lonely.”

“You’re not?”

Hanna shakes her head, slowly moving toward Mona as she speaks. “I’m really not.”

“So why are you here?” Mona prompts.

Hanna smiles softly. “I’m here because you are the person I want to be with. Really be with.”

“In what way?” Mona asks, pathetically.

Hanna rolls her eyes. “You _know_. Or maybe you don’t, so I’ll tell you. I’m in love with you. I’ve _been_ in love with you, but it just took me a while to figure it out. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mona whispers, the tears in her throat preventing her from talking louder.

“I think—I think maybe we’re finally in the right place. At the right time,” Hanna murmurs. She takes Mona’s hands in her own. “What do you think?”

Mona nods, blinking rapidly. “I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with you,” she admits.

“ _Mona_ ,” Hanna breathes, a decade’s worth of love and understanding and apologies wrapped up in those two syllables. “Please, just kiss me, okay?”

Mona laughs through her tears, and does exactly what Hanna asks of her.


End file.
